


building a bridge in the middle of nowhere

by Maharetchan



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Cute babies being adorable, Episode Related, F/M, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 20:05:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2441294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maharetchan/pseuds/Maharetchan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A conversation between Laurel and Wes post 1x03.</p>
            </blockquote>





	building a bridge in the middle of nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> I just have so many Laurel and Wes feelings.

Laurel sits next to him on the stairs outside Annalise's office quietly, without saying a word and with enough distance between them not to touch him; Wes doesn't look up right away, keeps staring at the brass trophy in his hand, heavy and cold under his skin: he equally wants to run to his apartment and proudly display it on his shelf like a well deserved prize, and throw it away as far as he can, breaking it into a hundred pieces, feeling a sudden hatred towards it that stems from the feeling of inadequacy that grows inside him.

 

Wes takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes almost helplessly, trying to master the courage to finally face Laurel: she's smiling at him when he does, a knowing smile, with a softness in her features that whispers acceptance and calm, that relaxes him, and he even manages to return it tentatively.

 

“I'm proud of you.”

 

“Why would you be? I didn't do anything useful to deserve this, not as much as Connor or Michaela, or even Asher. You did more than me on the St-Vincent case and got nothing in return... I don't deserve this.”

 

She rolls her eye and sighs loudly, looking sharply to him enough to make him feel guilty of his whining when he realizes how ungrateful he sounded. 

 

“I know what that must sound like, and I'm not saying I'm not glad I got this, because I would be lying, but... I don't belong here, not really. You guys are all so much more motivated and smart and capable than I am. I know what people say behind my back, or straight up to my face like Connor: I'm the one who was on the wait-list, that got in cheap. And this is so undeserving it feels like a joke even to me.”

 

Laurel is quiet for a long time after that, and Wes looks back at the trophy and considers, just for a moment, giving it to her, offering it to someone who worked for it much more than he did: but he doesn't, because she would hate it, and even to him the thought sounds so patronizing he's once again ashamed of himself.

 

“You convinced Annalise to represent that girl instead of the football player like the university wanted her to, right?”

 

“Yeah, I think so. I don't know.”

 

Wes frowns when Laurel smiles again and shakes her head, like he has said something incredibly funny that only she gets.

 

“Then it wasn't nothing: that girl maybe will have a chance at a fair trial thanks to you, she'll have one of the best lawyers of the country helping her, and if she's innocent, she may not go to jail for a crime she didn't commit thanks to you. That is not “nothing”, that's something good that you did. Not me, Connor or Michaela. You.”

 

He stares at her for a long time and then smiles, nodding and scratching his head, suddenly embarrassed, but really stupidly happy, because he needed to hear all that, but didn't think he had any right to actually be told those words, to deserve hearing them.

 

And he's thankful, so incredible thankful, because Laurel barely knows him and yet there she is, showing him a bit of kindness, and had no reason to do that other than be a far better person than any of them will ever be. He whispers a muffled “thank you” and her smile widens.

 

“And don't think about what the others say: they will never stop, whether you care or not, so it's better not to. You will prove your worth.”

 

“Why are you telling me this? Why are you even bothering with me?”

 

Laurel shrugs; her eyes shine kindly in the warm light of the dying sun.

 

“Because we know what is like to work hard for what we have, to be ignored and passed on just because we are not loud or competitive. The quiet ones should stick together.”

 

Wes smiles too, really and brightly for the first time that day, and he feels lighter, like a weight has been lifted off his chest. There's so much more he'd like to tell her, but he prefers to leave it like this, simple, no questions, no unnecessary words: she is simple and direct and honest, and he wants to give her the same honesty in return.

 

His smile is honest and she must see it, because she nods and awkwardly pets his knee as further encouragement.

 

Wes looks at Laurel getting up and does the same by reflex, confused for a moment on what to do now.

 

She bumps his shoulder lightly with her fist, and it's comfortable and good, almost like being with an old friend. Maybe in ten years she'll be one, he thinks, suddenly hoping it can become true in due time, that they can come out of this as friends.

 

“Let's go get ice cream. But you're paying.”

 

“I got the trophy! I should be offered ice cream, not paying for it.”

 

“You got the trophy, and that's why you're paying for the ice creams.”

 

Wes rolls his eyes theatrically, but follows her, both of them enclosed in a comfortable silence.


End file.
